Ghost of You
by The Red Hoodie
Summary: Derek doesn't like to leave Stiles' room.


**Disclaimer:** I own none of the characters or the places unique to these fandoms. I do own any original storyline ideas that come up within this writing.

**Title:** Ghost of You  
**Author:** The Red Hoodie  
**Rating: **K+/PG/IDK  
**Characters:** Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Scott McCall  
**Ship:** Sterek-ish  
**Summary:** Derek doesn't like to leave Stiles' room.  
**A/N:** Post S2. Got this idea from a comment on my newest Sterek video. I am cry, as Gabi would say. Used some liberties about the finale.

88

**Ghost of You**

Derek doesn't like to leave Stiles' room. He's there when Stiles leaves for school in the morning, and there when he gets back. The window stays open, since it's spring and it's warm. Stiles guesses that Derek climbs out of his house and roams around the woods during the day, because what else will a werewolf do who doesn't have a home?

Stiles doesn't mind. Derek is quiet, and his glares have been reduced by sixty percent in the last three weeks. He even cracks a smile, the genuine not douchey kind, at some of Stiles' jokes. Maybe they're getting somewhere.

"Lydia is having a graduation party next week," Stiles says one day, turning around in his seat.

Derek is sitting on the end of the bed. "You're going," he states.

Stiles shrugs, eyes looking down at Derek's hands. "Of course. Scott will be there. Allison is still out there killing people…I sorta have to be there for him…he's my best friend, you know."

"I know."

Stiles looks up. "Are you coming?" he asks bluntly.

Derek blinks, surprise on his face. "Why would I?"

"Well…" Stiles hesitates. "You've been living in my room for almost a month. I figure that you and I are at least friends now. You _should_ come."

"I don't think I can," Derek says in a voice that is not like his usual tone.

Stiles furrows his eyebrows. "Why not?" He feels stubborn. He wants Derek to be there. He doesn't know why, but the idea of being anywhere but school without Derek around makes him jumpy. He is spending most of his time in his room because of this.

The Sheriff's voice floats up the stairs. "Stiles!"

"Yeah, Dad!" Stiles stands and rushes from his room and catapults down the stairs. "What? Was there a murder?"

His father stands in the kitchen, a glass of milk in his hand. "Why do you always assume there has been a murder?"

"Because this town has had a murder spike this year?" Stiles offers with a shrug. He watches his dad carefully. He is the Sheriff again…everything is set right.

The Sheriff shakes his head. "There aren't any murders. I wanted to ask if you're going to that party at the Martin's?"

Stiles imagines Derek is listening from upstairs. "Yeah. It's the grad party. Of course I'm going."

"And Scott?"

"Yeah, Dad. Everyone will be there," Stiles explains.

"Okay." The Sheriff nods. "If there is alcohol…"

He lies. "There won't be! Can I go?" At his father's nod, Stiles runs up the stairs to his room. But Derek is gone. He frowns out the window.

88

Stiles picks up Scott in his Jeep. Melissa McCall is being nice to her son, but learning that he is a werewolf is a big thing. Stiles still hasn't told his father.

"You're going like that?" Scott asks, making a face at Stiles' clothes.

"What?" Stiles glances down at himself. He's wearing his usual jeans and a t-shirt with no overshirt and a cheap suit jacket. "What's wrong? You don't know how these parties will end up."

"Think you still have a shot with Lydia?"

Stiles frowns and pulls into the street. "No. She's with Jackson after his whole self-sacrificing thing on the lacrosse field. Apparently she like…literately wouldn't be able to live without him." He scoffs, a flash of a smiling Derek comes into his mind and he blinks it away.

Scott half smiles. "I know the feeling." He's talking about Allison. She is still ready to shoot him in the chest if he gets in her way.

"Right." Stiles glances over. "Hey man, least we're both graduating the way we started."

"What do you mean?"

"Single, obviously," Stiles smacks Scott upside the head.

Scott pushes him, but not too hard and cracks a grin. Stiles gives a snort of laughter and parks on the side of the street where a line of cars already sit.

"Do you think Allison will be here?" Scott asks, not two steps from Lydia's driveway. Loads of people file into her house. Stiles won't have to call any transvestites tonight.

Stiles groans and claps a hand on Scott's shoulder. "She's probably too busy planning your demise. C'mon, let's just have some fun. It's a Lydia Martin party, there will be booze and snacks."

"Is that all you can think about?"

"Should we add sex into the equation? I'm not sure if we'll get lucky…" Parts of Stiles doesn't want that to happen.

Scott chuckles as they walk in through the door. Stiles is no longer a nobody in the school. He is now part of some sort of high status because of his lacrosse win. It is weird having people know him and talk to him without being forced.

They mingle. Allison is not there. Lydia and Jackson are quieter, but still the glamorous couple. Danny has a new guy. The wolves are not here. Stiles thinks they will come sooner or later. He grabs a red cup and grimaces at the taste but downs it in one breath. He keeps looking for Derek.

Time flies fast. Almost two hours and Scott finds Stiles in a hallway. Couples sucking face make up the rest of the hallway's population.

"What are you doing?" Scott asks. He is drinking but not feeling the affects. It is a wolf thing. "You look like you're searching for someone."

Stiles' heart drops to his stomach. "Am I?"

"Yeah. What…did you invite someone or…make plans?" Scott looks worried. He's standing in front of Stiles.

"I um…Derek," Stiles blurts out. "I…fuck. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone that he's sort of been living with me."

Scott's eyebrows furrow. "Derek," he repeats, making sure he heard properly.

"Yeah. Derek Hale. Alpha werewolf. Likes to wear leather and live in broken down places." Stiles' pulse is fast. He doesn't know why.

Scott puts his hands on Stiles' shoulders. "Stiles…" He tries to catch his friend's eyes but it isn't working. Stiles keeps looking behind Scott. "Derek is…"

"He's right there," Stiles insists. And he is. He is standing by the punch bowl, mostly in shadows.

Scott glances over his shoulder then back at Stiles. "Stiles, listen to me." He digs his fingers into Stiles' shoulders to get his attention.

"Oww, what?!" Stiles snaps, glaring.

"Stiles…Derek isn't here."

Stiles glances back over at the punch bowl. Derek isn't there. Maybe he is just imagining him being there. "So he's at my house, or in the woods or something." Something is tickling the back of Stiles' mind.

Scott shakes him. "Stiles," he says, gently but firmly. "He's not there either."

Stiles blinks. Something tastes bad in his mouth. "What do you mean?" He doesn't want to know the answer. He wants to wiggle out of Scott's grip.

Scott takes in a short breath. "He's not…_any_where, Stiles. Derek…Derek died. Don't you remember?"

Stiles feels cold. "What? No…no he _didn't._"

Scott frowns. He is Stiles' best friend, how did he miss this? "He died, Stiles. We…we were all there."

Stiles shakes his head once in stubbornness. "No," he says like a child, pushing himself away and stumbling down the hall. He doesn't say sorry when he bumps into people. Everything is too close. He manages to find a bathroom before throwing up his three drinks. He gets outside and slides across slick grass before falling on his ass by the curb.

He clasps his fingers together because they are shaking. The ground is cold under him, and he stares into the dark shrubs across the street. Lights and sounds of the party behind him go mute. He squeezes his eyes shut.

Everything is not fine.

He doesn't want to remember. He never wanted to have to remember. But the images sting him like a hundred bees at once.

The lacrosse game.

Gerard cornering him and getting knocked out.

Waking up to find Erica and Boyd tied up.

Being confronted by a fully lizard-Jackson.

Derek…Scott…Isaac, they came to save him…them…everyone.

It didn't work.

Gerard is fearless and evil and Derek is no match for the kanima.

Something bad happens and Stiles saw it.

He doesn't want to see it again.

A hand comes down on his shoulder gently.

"Stiles." It's Scott. He sits next to Stiles on the curb. "I'm uh…how are you?"

"I don't know," he says honestly.

Scott swallows. He doesn't know what to say. "We should have…talked about this."

"It happened a month ago," Stiles says. The same time Derek _moved in._ Stiles feels sick again.

"Yeah. Have you…have you been…seeing him?"

Stiles hangs his head. "How does that happen? You haven't…none of you have seen him."

"No, we haven't." Scott was just as much a kid as Stiles when Stiles' mom died. He doesn't really remember how to deal with death like this.

Stiles takes in a shaking breath. "Seems _I've_ become the town nutjob."

Scott tries to give him a look that says otherwise. "It's not your fault."

"I shouldn't be seeing dead people," Stiles says, sticking his hands under his arms and leaning his chest against his legs. "I shouldn't be having conversations with dead people daily. Or making dead people smile at shitty jokes. What the hell is happening to me?"

"You're just…grieving…differently," Scott says, trying to make Stiles feel better, but thinking he is failing when Stiles presses his forehead against his knees. "It's you know…normal. Nothing is happening to you. Maybe you just need to…talk to someone about it."

Stiles blinks and straightens his back, keeping his arms tight around himself, and looks over at Scott. "Yeah? And who do you suggest I talk to about how many people I've seen die in front of me in the past few months?"

Scott takes a breath. "Ms. Morell?"

"She knows about all of this?"

Scott nods. "Yeah. I found out not long…after. She and Deaton are like…family or something. I don't know exactly. But I mean…you…you need to talk to someone, Stiles. You can't just keep living this way."

"As a nutjob."

"You're not a nutjob."

"I've been thinking Derek Hale has been living in my room for the past month. I am on the crazy train."

Scott puts a hand on Stiles' shoulder again. "Do you want to leave? We should leave. I can drive." He claps his hand down once before standing.

"Where?" Stiles stands slowly, feeling stiff and numb.

"Home?"

Stiles frowns. "Can I sleep on your floor?" He doesn't want to see Derek again. No…that is a lie. He wants to see Derek again. Stiles is scared of not seeing him anymore. He knows he's got some screws loose, and he can't help but want it. Scott would probably stay with him if they went to his house anyway.

"Yeah. Give me your keys."

Stiles hands them over and shoves his hands into his pockets as they walk down the dark street. Stiles mulls over the fleeting conversations he remembers having with Derek. Is he really just some figment of Stiles' imagination or an actual ghost? Do ghosts exist? Will Ms. Morell know anything about this?

Stiles gets into his Jeep on autopilot and sinks down in the seat. Scott starts the car.

"You should call your dad," Scott says.

Stiles nods, but doesn't do so. He closes his eyes and keeps his arms crossed tightly. He imagines that time, about six days into Derek suddenly being in his room all the time, Stiles saying something about cheerleaders. Derek actually smiles from where he's sitting, flipping through a book. It makes him look nice.

Stiles wonders…he wonders why Derek didn't smile more often when he was alive. And why he did it so much after he wasn't.


End file.
